


I Want You, I Want You So Bad

by Elorianna



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Milex - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elorianna/pseuds/Elorianna
Summary: Alex and Miles find themselves trapped in a lift after a night of heavy drinking. As they wait to be rescued, they struggle to find ways to keep themselves occupied, and events take an unexpected turn…





	I Want You, I Want You So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had the urge to write another Milex fic :) 
> 
> This one is set just after the 2013 GQ Men of the Year Awards and it was inspired by this [picture](https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/alex-turner-and-miles-kane-arrive-at-the-gq-men-of-the-year-awards-at-picture-id179442099) of the boys. I even had a little go at the accents this time. Feedback is welcome and appreciated :)

Alex swayed slightly as he climbed into the back of the waiting taxi, and then he laughed as Miles clambered in afterwards and almost landed on top of him. They hadn’t intended to get this drunk. It was just as well that the hotel was only around the corner.

“To the Savoy on the Strand, please driver,” Miles said, slurring his words. The driver nodded courteously. His face was studiously blank, but Alex could sense that he was watching them. Possibly he recognised them, or possibly he was just worried that Miles was going to throw up all over the plush leather seats.

Miles gave Alex a shove. “What’s so funny, Al?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Alex fought to keep the smile off his face. The driver swung the car away from the kerb and Miles immediately fell against Alex’s shoulder. “Put yer bloody seatbelt on will ya, Miles? You’re gonna give me a concussion.”

Miles grinned. “Oh yeah, sorry.” He slid the seatbelt home with a click. They were on their way back from the GQ Men of the Year Awards. The Arctic Monkeys had picked up the award for best band and Miles had celebrated on their behalf by downing a large quantity of expensive whiskey. Unsurprisingly, he’d ended up pretty hammered, and so Alex had left Matt, Jamie and Nick behind at the Royal Opera House in order to escort Miles back to the hotel.

In actual fact, Alex was very nearly as hammered as Miles. His head was spinning. The warm darkness of the taxi was a welcome relief after all the bright lights and noise of the awards ceremony. He’d had more than his fill of flashing cameras and whiter-than-white smiles.

It didn’t take them long to reach their destination, but Miles still somehow managed to fall asleep on the journey. Alex shook him awake. “Come on, Miles, wake up. I’m not bloody carrying ya.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Miles said, his eyes still half closed. In the end Alex had to get out of the taxi and go round to Miles’s side to help his friend get out. He wrapped an arm tight around Miles’s waist to stop him from falling over and the two of them weaved their way unsteadily into the hotel foyer.

There was no way Miles was going to be able to manage the stairs, so Alex called the lift. The shiny gold doors slid open with a gentle _whoosh_ and Alex manoeuvred them both inside. Their reflections stared back at them from the mirrored back wall, Miles in his sharp black and white suit, Alex in his outrageously yellow shirt and slicked back quiff, both of them looking now rather worse for wear.

Alex hit the button for the top floor and then stumbled as the lift lurched upwards. He still had his arm round Miles’s waist and Miles was looking blearily at their reflections.

“Look, Al, there’s a million of us,” he said, and pointed.

Alex looked where Miles was pointing. The mirrored sides of the lift had created an infinitely repeating image of the two of them that grew smaller and smaller until it dwindled to a vanishing point.

“Wow,” said Alex. “That’s intense.” He reached out to brush his fingers over the mirror. As he did so, the lift gave a sudden judder and the reflections shook and vibrated. There was a horrible metallic screeching noise and then the lift jerked to a stop. In the next moment, the lights went out and everything disappeared into blackness.

Miles’s fingers dug sharply into Alex’s ribs and Alex let out an involuntarily yelp.

“What the fuck just happened?” said Miles. His breathing had grown faster and Alex could hear him panting beside him in the dark.

“Calm down,” Alex said. “It must be a power cut. Just wait a second, there’ll be some emergency lighting or summat.” As he spoke, he heard a quiet hum. The LED strip light which ran around the edges of the ceiling began to glow softly. “There, you see?”

Miles detached himself from Alex’s grip and leaned forwards to bang on the lift buttons. “They’re all dead,” he said.

“Press the alarm button,” said Alex.

“It’s dead too. Shit, shit, shit.” Miles was starting to panic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Fuck, no signal. We can’t call anyone, what are we supposed to do?”

“Alright, alright,” Alex said. The lift seemed a lot smaller in the half-dark, the walls a lot closer, but he fought off his own claustrophobia and grabbed hold of Miles’s arm. “Sit down on the floor. It’ll make the space seem bigger.”

He sat down and pulled Miles down next to him. They sat close together with their backs against the wall. Miles’s eyes looked huge in the dim light. “I can’t cope with this, Al,” he said. “I’m too drunk, I’m freaking out.”

“Look at me, Miles,” Alex said. Miles turned to him and Alex put a hand on his shoulder. “Now take a deep breath. And again. Listen, we’re okay, we just have to wait until someone comes to get us. Try to think about summat else in the meantime, take yer mind off it.”

“I can’t think about anything else,” Miles said. He rubbed a hand roughly across his face. “You’re gonna have to distract me.”

Alex sighed and started racking his brain for something to keep them both occupied until the hotel staff could come and rescue them. He shifted position on the floor. Something hard and angular was digging into his hip. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the foreign object, but it wasn’t his phone as he’d expected, it was a deck of playing cards.

“Hey, Miles, look, I’ve found some cards. D’ya wanna play?”

Miles stared at the deck. “Where’d the hell you get those?”

“I nicked them out the restroom at the Opera House,” Alex said. “They were just laying there on the side. Good job I did, eh? Know any games?”

“I only know one card game,” Miles said. “And it’s not really the right time or place for it.”

Alex snorted. “Is it a game which involves taking us clothes off?”

Miles grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, you guessed it.” Miles looked around at the walls that boxed them in and his smile quickly faded. Alex could read the anxiety in his face. He had to keep Miles diverted or else his friend was likely to have a full blown panic attack.

“Hey,” Alex said. “That sounds like a pretty distracting game to me. Maybe this is actually the perfect time and place. Show me how to play?”

Miles stared at him. “Are you serious?”

Alex nodded. The claustrophobia was getting to him too and he needed a diversion just as much as Miles did. He was also still pretty drunk, and the idea of playing a stripping game with his best mate didn’t faze him much. “Yeah, come on, show me.”

Miles huffed out a breath. “Alright, then, give us the cards.” He crawled over to sit cross-legged in front of Alex. “So, we each start with seven cards and the aim is to get rid of all your cards first. We take turns in putting cards down and each time you put one down, it has to be a higher value than the one before. So if I put down an eight, you can put down a nine, a ten, or a Jack, say, but not a five or a four. Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it. So what if I don’t have a higher card?”

“Then you have to pick up the whole pile, and remove one item of clothing. The more times you have to pick up the pile, the harder it gets to win the game. We keep playing through the whole deck until one person has no cards left.”

“Or no clothes left,” Alex said with a laugh. “What do you call this anyway?”

Miles grinned. “Naked shithead,” he said. “Because that’s what you are if you lose. I have to warn ya though, I’m pretty good at this game.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Alex. “Deal the cards, do your worst.”

“You might regret you said that, Mr Turner,” said Miles. Alex smiled. He could see that some of the tension had already eased from Miles’s shoulders. He picked up the hand that Miles had dealt him – it wasn’t too bad, a good mix of high and low cards. He smiled again. Miles was going down.

They took turns in putting down their cards. Alex put down a five, an eight and a Queen, but Miles met him easily each time. When Alex put down his highest card, the King of Hearts, Miles looked at him smugly and laid an Ace down on top.

“Hey, not fair,” Alex said.

“I warned ya,” Miles said. “You’re messing with the best over ‘ere, mate. Off with the jacket.”

Alex grumbled as he removed his black suit jacket, but secretly he was relieved. The air inside the lift was already growing quite close and humid and he was beginning to sweat. He picked up the pile of cards and added it to the ones in his hand, and they kept playing.

Alex lost the next three plays, as well as both his shoes, his socks and his trousers, but then Miles’s luck seemed to run out. The Scouser was down to his last two cards when Alex played the Ace that he’d been keeping back, and Miles had nothing left to put on top. Alex grinned with triumph as Miles picked up the pack and tried with difficulty to arrange about thirty cards in his hand at once.

“Wipe that shit-eating grin off yer face,” Miles said. He shrugged off his white jacket, folded it and placed it on the floor beside him. Alex just laughed.

It was all downhill for Miles after that. He lost his shoes, socks, trousers and his tie, and he was soon sitting there in just his black shirt and boxers.

“Oh, come on,” Miles said, as Alex won yet another play.

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame the cards,” said Alex. “Time to lose the shirt.”

“Can’t I just take off me watch?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting away with that. Come on, off with it.” Alex leant back against the wall and folded his arms behind his head, still grinning.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t ya?” Miles said. He began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ll tell you what,” Alex said. “In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I’ll even the score with you.” He grabbed hold of his own shirt collar and yanked the offensively yellow shirt off over his head. It was way too hot to be wearing a shirt anyway, the temperature in the lift felt like it had gone up by about ten degrees. “Happy now?” he said.

Miles was staring at him, his shirt still half unbuttoned.

“You need a hand with that?” Alex said.

Miles gave him a narrow-eyed look and slowly finished removing the shirt himself. Alex blinked and suddenly found himself looking away. He watched Miles’s reflection in the mirror instead. The dim light reflected softly off Miles’s bare skin, his curved biceps and the muscles in his shoulders. When Alex looked back, he found Miles watching him. They stared at each other for a second.

Alex coughed. “Man, I’m really thirsty.”

“I can help with that,” said Miles. He riffled through the inside pocket of his discarded jacket and brought out a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Are you serious, you’ve had that with you this whole time?” Alex said.

“Forgot I had it till just now,” Miles said. He took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Alex. Alex took it from him and downed two large gulps. “Hey, steady on, tiger,” Miles said. “I don’t want you passing out on me and leaving me here by meself.”

“I’m fine,” Alex said. In reality the room was spinning and his thoughts were beginning to blur together, but Miles didn’t need to know that. “Let’s just keep playing.”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” Miles said. “We’re already down to our boxers.”

Alex started to giggle. He was suddenly struck with the ridiculousness of their situation. Miles began to laugh too. He put down the cards and crawled over to sit with his back to the wall beside Alex. “D’ya wanna play a drinking game instead?” he said.

“Might as well,” Alex said. “We have to keep us-selves entertained somehow.”

“Okay, then,” Miles said. “You mime the title of a song, and I’ll guess what it is. If I get it right, you have to drink.”

“Sounds fair. Okay, guess this one.” Alex repositioned himself on his knees and turned to face Miles. He drew an imaginary bubble in the air around his face and then began to wave his arms as if he was floating. Next, he pointed up towards the sky and tried to assume an expression of awestruck wonder.

Miles burst into laughter. “Are ya trying to do Bowie?” he said. “Is it Starman? That’s terrible, Al.”

Alex grinned. “Can’t be that terrible, you guessed it. Give us the JD, then.” Miles handed him the bottle and Alex took another gulp. The whiskey burned his throat on the way down and made his whole body tingle with warmth. “You do one, now.”

“Okay, here goes.” Miles stood up and began to dance. He shimmied his body back and forth and then held his hands to his mouth as if he was calling out. The song was obvious and Alex guessed it straight away, but for a moment he said nothing. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. He watched as Miles gyrated around the inside of the lift in just his boxers, swinging his hips to a silent beat. “Come on, Al, you have to get this one,” Miles said.

Alex gave himself a little mental shake. What the hell was the matter with him? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen Miles with his shirt off, for Christ’s sake. “It’s the Beatles, Twist and Shout,” he said. “Obviously.”

“You win, I drink,” Miles said, seeming happy enough about the outcome. “Your turn.” He sat down heavily next to Alex and took a large swig from the bottle.

Alex did the first thing that came into his head. He reached over and laid his hand gently over Miles’s eyes. He felt a tickle as Miles’s eyelashes flickered against his palm.

“Hey, what are ya doin’?” Miles said. “I can’t see.”

“It’s a clue to the song title,” Alex said.

“Oh, right. Um… is it… something to do with eyes? Um… I dunno, Al, I give up.”

“It’s ‘Under Cover of Darkness’ by the Strokes,” Alex said. He took his hand away from Miles’s face. Miles looked up at him with a wide smile, and Alex’s heart did a weird little flip in his chest.

“I get it, nice one,” Miles said. He was slurring his words again. “Guess that means I have to drink some more. Oh well, what a shame.”

Alex shook his head. “You’re trying to lose on purpose, aren’t you?” he said.

“I resent that accusation,” Miles said, still smiling. He held the bottle to his lips and tipped his head back. Alex found his eyes wandering to Miles’s neck, and then to his collarbones and his bare chest. He could feel himself starting to sweat again, despite the fact that most of his clothes were now lying in a heap on the floor. Why was it so bloody hot in this lift?

“Okay, my turn again,” Miles said. He turned towards Alex, reached out and took Alex’s hand. His fingers brushed gently across Alex’s palm. Alex twitched involuntarily. Miles’s touch felt like an electric shock against his skin. His heart began pounding way too hard in his chest.

“Miles, what… what are you doing?” he said.

“It’s a clue, obviously,” Miles said. Alex looked down at their clasped hands and said nothing. His body was pulsing all over with tiny shivers. It was suddenly hard to breathe. The silence stretched out for too long, and when Alex looked back up at Miles, it was as though the air between them had thickened and grown heavier somehow. He held Miles’s gaze for a beat, two beats, three beats. And then, Miles leaned towards him. His grip on Alex’s hand tightened. Alex breathed out in a rush and closed his eyes.

There was a metal grinding sound, the lift rattled and Alex felt the floor start to shake beneath him. He opened his eyes and looked around wildly. The main lights were back on and Miles was staring at him with a dazed expression, like he wasn’t quite sure where he was. The lift was moving again, upwards towards their destination.

“The power’s back on,” Alex said, stupidly. Talk about stating the obvious.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Miles said. “Uh… we oughta get dressed I suppose?”

“Yeah, we’d better.” Alex got to his feet and quickly pulled on his shirt and trousers. Miles did the same.

The lift shuddered to a stop on the top floor and a waft of wonderfully cool air blew in as the doors slid open. Alex dived out into the corridor. “Oh my god, thank fuck for that. How long were we stuck in there?”

Miles looked at his watch. “Just over an hour, maybe.”

Alex shook his head. “Bloody hell.” He looked at Miles, who was swaying slightly on his feet. Had Alex just imagined that strange moment between them back there? For a second it had seemed like… but no, he was drunk, they were both just so fucking drunk.

“Hey Al,” Miles said. “Wanna come back to me room and finish off the whiskey?”

“I dunno, Miles,” Alex said. “You sure you wanna keep drinking?”

Miles shrugged. “After tonight, I’m not gonna want to drink again for a while, so we may as well make the most of it before me hangover kicks in.”

Alex laughed. “Drunk logic,” he said. “Alright, then.”

Alex curled an arm around Miles’s shoulders and Miles leaned against him as they weaved their way erratically up the corridor. Alex liked the way Miles’s body felt against his side, warm and solid and familiar, and he supposed there was nothing wrong with that. Halfway to Miles’s room, Miles started to giggle for no particular reason, and that set Alex off as well. They arrived at the door breathless with laughter, both trying unsuccessfully to shush each other.

“Miles, give me the damn key card,” Alex said, still giggling.

“I dunno where it is,” Miles said. “Try me back pocket.” Alex reached into Miles’s pocket and found the card. It took him five minutes to get the bloody thing to fit in the door, and when the door finally opened Miles stumbled blindly into the room and collapsed on to the bed, dragging Alex with him. They lay there in a tangle of limbs, both still laughing.

Alex turned on to his side to look at Miles, and their eyes met. Miles’s expression was so full of warmth and fondness that it made Alex’s chest ache. He wondered if Miles was seeing the same expression mirrored on his own face. Was it normal, the way that he felt about Miles? He’d never experienced a friendship so intense, not even with Matt. The way Miles was looking at him right now made him feel as though his whole body was on fire. But that part was surely just the whiskey, it had to be the whiskey. He should really, really stop drinking.

“Miles?” said Alex.

“Yeah?”

“What was the song you were trying to get me to guess before, in the lift?”

Miles screwed up his face for a second, as if he was trying to remember. “Oh yeah,” he said. “It was ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ by the Beatles.”

“Oh, right.” Alex couldn’t seem to stop staring at Miles. His friend’s large brown eyes had tiny flecks of gold in them. Why had he never noticed that before? “Yeah, I shoulda guessed that one.”

Miles suddenly reached out and wrapped both his arms around Alex’s waist. He pulled Alex towards him until their foreheads were touching. “Ya know, you’re me best mate in the whole fuckin’ world, Al,” he said. “I fuckin’ love ya to bits.”

“I love you too, man,” Alex said. He tried not to shiver in Miles’s embrace, but Miles’s body was so warm, his skin was so soft. He forced himself to listen to what Miles was actually saying. He had called Alex his _best mate_ – and mates was as far as it went, clearly. Even if Alex had wanted something more, Miles was so drunk right now, it would have been wrong to make any sort of a move on him. Not that Alex was even thinking about that at all. Not at _all_. Christ’s sake, was he? Was he really thinking about that?

Miles lifted one of his hands up to Alex’s face and thrust his fingers without warning into Alex’s hair. Alex bit back a gasp. Miles’s fingers began to move in slow circles, massaging Alex’s scalp. An unexpected flare of heat surged through Alex’s body. The feeling of Miles’s fingers tugging on his hair was like some kind of exquisite torture. He could hardly stand it. Miles’s other hand began to stroke slowly up and down Alex’s spine and the heat in Alex’s body intensified. Holy fuck, Miles was actually turning him on. He could feel himself starting to get hard. This was bad, really bad.

“Miles…” he said, under his breath. “Jesus, Miles, what are you doing to me, man?”

“Hmm?” Miles had his eyes closed and he seemed half asleep, clearly oblivious to the anguish that he was causing Alex. His hands kept moving against Alex’s body seemingly of their own accord. “Something wrong, Al?” he murmured.

Alex didn’t know what to say, or do. He didn’t want Miles to stop, but he was afraid that if he stayed in Miles’s embrace much longer, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He couldn’t do that to Miles. He couldn’t take advantage of him like that, especially not when Miles was obviously just trying to show him some platonic drunken affection.

But what about that moment in the lift? Had that been his imagination too? Or was Miles just so drunk that he hadn’t known what he was doing?

Alex closed his eyes and lost himself for a moment in the sensations that Miles’s hands were inflicting upon him. He wanted so badly to touch Miles back, to run his hand up Miles’s thigh, under his shirt, over his skin. He could feel Miles’s breath against his lips, their foreheads were still touching. And then Miles pulled him even closer. His thigh slid between Miles’s legs. They were pressed up so tight against each other now that Alex was afraid Miles would begin to notice the intense physical reaction that Alex’s body was having to their proximity. It was a proximity that was both too much and not enough.

Alex opened his eyes and found Miles looking back at him. “You’ve such a pretty face, Al,” Miles said. And then he leaned forward and planted a tiny kiss on the very corner of Alex’s mouth.

Alex shuddered. “Miles, stop. I can’t. You’re drunk… it’s not right.”

“You’re drunk too,” Miles said. “What’s your point?”

“My point is… my point is…” Alex’s mind had gone blank. Did he have a point? He was so confused. His thoughts were being crowded out by the feeling of Miles’s warm body pressed up against him. As if that weren’t enough, he felt Miles slip a hand beneath his shirt and now Alex could feel Miles’s fingers dancing across his bare skin and he felt as though he might explode. He let out an involuntary low groan.

“Jesus, fuck, Miles,” he said. “I just… I want you. Oh, Christ, I want you.”

For a moment, there was complete silence between them. Dread began to uncurl in Alex’s stomach. What had he done? Had he just damaged their friendship beyond all repair?

It was Miles who spoke first. “Then touch me, Al,” he said.

Alex let out a sharp breath. “You don’t really want that, Miles. Come on, man, you’re so drun– oh _fuck_ –“ Alex choked on the last words as Miles brushed his fingers, ever so lightly but still deliberately, over Alex’s hard-on.

“It’s up to me what I want,” Miles said. “And I want you to touch me, right now.”

Alex noticed then how ragged Miles’s breathing had become. His friend’s pupils were black and dilated, his hands sweaty against Alex’s skin. He understood with a jolt of realisation that Miles wanted him just as badly as he wanted Miles. Alex felt the last shreds of his inhibition and doubt disintegrate in the rising heat of his desire.

He seized Miles roughly by the hips and thrust his tongue into Miles’s mouth. Miles uttered a startled moan and then they were kissing with a fervency that was frankly shocking. The feeling of Miles’s tongue was like nothing else Alex had ever experienced and yet still it was not enough. He tugged at Miles’s shirt, ripping it open and sending buttons flying. He broke their kiss to press his face against Miles’s chest and to suck one of Miles’s nipples into his mouth. Miles cried out when he did it, bucking and arching his back.

Alex pressed his fingers hard into Miles’s hips and began to work them underneath the waistband of Miles’s trousers. Miles was attempting to do the same thing to Alex and for a moment they struggled with each other, both of them fighting for dominance. Finally, Alex gave in. He relinquished hold of Miles’s hips and allowed Miles to take the lead. Miles ripped off what remained of his own clothes, tossed them aside, and then did the same with Alex’s. He wasted no time in straddling Alex, bent his head to Alex’s hard-on and took the whole length of it in his mouth.

Alex let out a high-pitched keening sound as he felt Miles’s tongue against his cock. He clutched at the sheets and lifted his hips off the bed. He was completely helpless against the waves of desire rolling through his body. Miles kept going, kept moving his tongue up and down and Alex began to see stars. He grabbed a fistful of Miles’s hair. “Miles… fuck… I’m gonna–”

Miles stopped just as Alex teetered on the edge of his orgasm. Alex’s whole body was wound so tight, it was almost painful. His cock throbbed, he was so _close_ …

Miles crawled up beside Alex and they lay facing each other. Miles began slowly teasing the very tips of his fingers up and down Alex’s length. He pressed his mouth to Alex’s ear. “Do you like that?” he whispered.

Alex was almost whimpering. “Yes, yes… please don’t stop…” He reached down and took Miles’s own cock in his hand. His moved his fist back and forth with long practiced strokes and Miles quickly began to pant and moan. Alex bit down on Miles’s neck and thrust himself against Miles’s hand. “Fuck, I want you, Miles,” he said. “I want you so bad…”

Miles cried out against Alex’s shoulder and Alex felt Miles’s orgasm pulsing against his fist. Miles’s grip tightened around Alex’s cock at the same time and he began to pump Alex harder. Alex’s vision swam and blurred and he sobbed aloud as his own orgasm surged through him like a tidal wave. He held on tight to Miles, his whole body trembling with the power of it.

Afterwards, neither of them moved for several minutes. They lay still, panting and trying to catch their breath, their arms wrapped tightly around one another.

Eventually Alex pulled back from Miles and reached up to push his tangled hair out of his eyes. He could still feel the heat of their encounter thrumming through his body. “Miles,” he said softly. “Are we gonna regret this in the morning?”

“It’s already morning, Al,” Miles said. Alex propped himself up on his elbow and saw that Miles was right. A thin sliver of sunlight was just visible at the edges of the curtains.

“So it is,” Alex said. “Well… do you think we’ll regret it after breakfast then?”

Miles snorted. “How should I know? I’m never leaving this bed again. If the sex doesn’t kill me, then me hangover definitely will.” He reached for Alex and pulled him down into a long open-mouthed kiss.

Alex smiled against Miles’s lips. “You’re still drunk,” he said.

“So are you, what’s your point?”

“I don’t have a point,” said Alex, and he kissed Miles again. The strip of sunlight at the edges of the curtains continued to brighten, but neither of them paid it any more attention.


End file.
